


The In-Between Place part 2

by china_shop



Category: Canadian Actor RPF, Fandom RPF, due South
Genre: Crack, Fic, Llamas, M/M, Mary Sue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-13
Updated: 2005-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-13 00:21:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fraser," you say.<br/>"He really isn't adjusting very well to this reality," I agree. "Perhaps if we introduced him to HRH Queen Thatcher?"<br/>"No!" you disagree, instantly. "No, that would only lead to confusion and het."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The In-Between Place part 2

**Author's Note:**

> **china_shop:** You know that the logical next move in the cruiseliner fic is that you turn into Dief and I turn into Albuquerque, right? Hee.
> 
>  **mergatrude:** Actually, I was thinking it was the perfect opportunity for Thatcher and Stella to get together. I was going to distract Fraser from his pursuit of Callum by discussing Inuit throat singing (dira's flashfic reminded me that I have actually listened to it, for an ethnomusicology assignment), while you wrangled Alburqurque out of our cabin and then polished off the cheesecake with Callum. Hugh punches out a cocktail waiter who bears a surprising resemblance to Paul Gross, and feels much better for it.
> 
>  **china_shop:** *applauds madly* I get to each cheesecake with Callum!!!!!11111!!!!eleventy-one!
> 
> Poor Callum. ;)
> 
> What about Turnbull?
> 
>  **mergatrude:** *brain splodes*
> 
> (Humour us: we might be dangerous.)

We're curled on the velvet-draped couches in the ship's library, pawing our way through various leather-bound volumes of slashfic and reading bits aloud to each other, while tuxedoed dolphins bring us cocktails, when a commotion breaks out in the passageway outside.

There's barking and swearing, and curt-sounding Canadian apologies.

You and I exchange glances.

"Fraser," you say.

"He really isn't adjusting very well to this reality," I agree. "Perhaps if we introduced him to HRH Queen Thatcher?"

"No!" you disagree, instantly. "No, that would only lead to confusion and het."

"True," I concede. "Shall we--?"

The growling has grown fiercer and lower. Presumably Dief has taken exception to something-- or someone. When we peer through the porthole in the door, all becomes clear.

Hugh and Dief are glaring at each other, swearing in their respective dialects, and Fraser is standing by, his cheeks flushed, and a disapproving frown on his face. It's not clear which of them he disapproves of, though. He keeps repeating, "I'm sorry. I don't know what's possessed him. He's usually very polite."

Your eyes get big and round. I suspect mine are doing likewise. This could get verrry interrresting.

Dief barks a protest, and his hackles rise even higher.

"Fucking wolf," says Hugh, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth (which makes Fraser frown more). Hugh's eyes narrow, but he doesn't seem too worried. It's more like he and Dief are sizing each other up. "Just admit it," Hugh adds, mockingly, "you're out of your league. I can take you."

Dief takes a slow deliberate step forward, his teeth bared.

The atmosphere is electric.

"Oh dear," says Fraser. "Please don't encourage him." He tries to talk Dief down but, since Dief is completely focused on Hugh, he can't make eye contact, and Dief seems to be having one of his stubbornly deaf days.

Just then Callum happens to wander by, and you and I squee silently, and clutch each other's arms, all the while watching him avidly. He's almost blinding in his scruffy, golden-stubbled beauty. I sigh helplessly and my knees go weak, and I have to grab at the door-handle to hold myself up. You grab my collar and help me keep my balance, just before I go hurtling through the doorway and push Fraser into Hugh's arms. (Thanks! That would've been _bad_.)

Callum sees us through the door porthole and blinks, maybe disconcerted, but then he purses his lips and shrugs, and turns to face the others. "Hugh, what the fuck're you doing? You were supposed to meet me in our cabin."

Hugh and Dief both look up. "Got distracted," says Hugh, nonchalantly.

"Ray—" says Fraser, sounding hurt and frustrated. "I don't understand why—"

"Paul, just—give it up. Fuck. How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not playing your stupid games. Stop trying to headtrip me."

Fraser takes an abrupt step back, and tries to muster some dignity. "Dief!" he calls, stiffly.

Dief barks, and jumps up on Callum, trying to lick his ear. Callum shoves him down. "Jeez," he says, "and you! Draco! I thought we agreed: no ear-licking. I'm not wearing make-up, I taste like shit. Do _not_ lick me."

"That don't apply to me, though, right?" murmurs Hugh.

"Course not, you idiot," Callum grins at Hugh, and wraps his long fingers around Hugh's neck, pulling him close, kissing him quick and hard and dirty.

I wipe the drool from my chin.

You and I start arguing in hushed whispers whether it would be rude to follow them back to their cabin and ask to watch. We conclude, Uh, yeah. Probably.

Meanwhile, Fraser's blushing and looking put out. "Diefenbaker, come!" he orders, and turns on his heel. Dief doesn't follow. "--and pay and pay and pay," Fraser's woobie voice echoes behind him, growing increasingly faint as he vanishes in the direction of the ship's laundry.

Meanwhile, Dief watches Callum and Hugh, wide-eyed and disgruntled. He whines slightly. Callum looks down and grins. "Okay, mutt. C'mon. You can hang with us." He holds out his other hand, and Dief sniffs it carefully, then licks it.

Callum jerks his head back the way he came, and he and Hugh stride off, hand in hand to the starboard deck, maybe to watch the sunset. Dief trots ahead of them, his tail high.

We look at each other.

"Uh," I say, suddenly realising who's missing. "Where's Albuquerque?"

 

 **mergatrude:** Albuquerque is napping. Too much cheesecake is making her lazy. I keep telling her she's a wild animal, but she's gone soft.

 **china_shop:** Like Dief. Maybe she'd save your life if you were in mortal danger. *considers whether to risk it -- what if she didn't?!?*

 **mergatrude:** That is risky. But then I might be saved by a Mountie and a Chicgo cop with experimental hair, at the last minute. Dief is too busy with Hugh, who's recording his howls for the backing track of his next single.

 **china_shop:** I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!


End file.
